


I'm You

by elfin



Series: Knight In Shining Armour [4]
Category: Backstrom (TV)
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine didn't do relationships, he did shit that was going to get him killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm You

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: mentions of non-consensual sex as referenced in the show

Backstrom let the heavy metal door slam behind him and trotted down the steps into the belly of the barge.

‘Valentine! Get out here! I’ve got Chinese. Doctor Deb says it’s better for me than pizza.’ He put the large brown paper bag on the kitchen table and took off his coat. ‘Valentine!’

He stopped and listened. Usually the call of food brought Val out of hiding, unless he was balls deep inside a guy, but he never did that quietly. The boat was silent. Crossing to the closed door of Val’s room, he pushed it open. No Valentine. The door to the bathroom was ajar and he wasn’t in there.

It wasn’t all that odd, him not being home, it was just that he’d said he would be when they’d chatted over breakfast that morning. He’d asked if Backstrom would mind bringing a takeaway back if a case didn’t keep him out too late.

He half-thought about just sitting down with a ginger beer and eating his share of the food, but something was nagging at him, so he called Val’s cell. It went to voicemail. He left a garbled message about cold food and ended the call. He told himself himself everything was fine, Valentine had just been delayed or was shagging some dark haired beauty in the back room of a bar somewhere.

Backstrom ate, watched a documentary about sharks, and eventually fell asleep in his chair. 

He was woken several hours later by banging on the barge door.

Valentine still wasn’t home, he noticed, as he trudged up the steps and opened the door. Niedermayer was standing out in the rain, looking nervous. It was barely light outside.

‘Sir?’

‘What time is it?’

‘Is Valentine in, by any chance?’

They seemed to be having two different conversations. ‘What? Why? You’re here for him?’

‘Is he?’

‘No.’

Niedermayer’s face seemed to change, he looked upset. ‘Sir… a body’s been found, a couple of miles up river.’

Finally he put two and two together. ‘You think…’ He couldn’t even say it. ‘He’s just out getting his rocks off somewhere.’

‘The body, Sir…’

‘It isn’t Val.’

‘But we think you should take a look, Sir.’ He looked and sounded almost scared.

Angry, Backstrom grabbed his jacket from the hook and pulled the door closed behind him. ‘Take me there.’

~

The body had been pulled from the water and was lying on the boardwalk, covered with a tarpaulin. Forensics were there but chances were their victim had gone in to the water further down river and drifted. Even if there had been evidence, the rain would have washed it away.

The journey had lasted only a couple of minutes but in that time, Backstrom had worked himself quickly towards a panic attack or worse, a heart attack. As soon as the car stopped he was out and down to crouch next to the body. He took a deep breath and pulled back the tarp, understanding why Niedermayer had panicked. The hair was the same, even dripping wet. The face was battered beyond recognition, but underlying bone structure was the same. His body though was unharmed, save for a few cuts and bruises, and while it was covered in tattoos, they weren’t Val’s.

Backstrom put the tarp back and dropped back to his butt on the wet boards, pulse racing, heart pounding, adrenalin leaving his system in a rush.

‘It’s not him,’ he told Niedermayer, and saw the same relief cross the detective’s face. Well, maybe not exactly the same. He pulled out his cell and called Val again. Still, voicemail. This body may not be his, but Backstrom couldn’t entirely banish the uneasy feeling. ‘Is there anything to identify this poor kid?’

Niedermayer lifted one edge of the cover and reached for the victim’s hand. ‘This stamp is from Gaslight, a gay club in the city.’

‘Gravely!’ She hurried over. ‘Get over to Gaslight, take Almond. Get me CCTV. I want to know when he was there and who he left with.’

‘Recently, given the state of this stamp. He hasn’t been in the water long.’

‘Someone’s had enough time to beat him to death.’

‘No, Sir, the damage to his face was post mortem,’ Niedermayer corrected him. ‘CoD is strangulation. A man, if I had to guess, big hands.’

Backstrom was only half-listening, staring at his cell, willing Valentine to return his calls.

~

He knew it was bad news when he saw the expression on Niedermayer’s face. He and Paquet had burst into his office with so much urgency, it had rattled the glass all the frames which made up the partitions. Backstrom leaned forward over his desk and tried to see the screen of the tablet he and Paquet were holding.

‘CCTV from the club, Sir, from tonight. Our victim can be seen leaving at just after ten.’

‘I’m no clubber, but isn’t that early? Valentine often doesn’t go out until ten.’

‘It is early,’ he confirmed. ‘But I think he was going on somewhere, because he isn’t alone.’

Finally he held up the tablet and Backstrom heard a painful groan, realised it was his own, when he recognised the man on their victim’s arm.

‘Valentine.’

‘There’s more,’ Paquet told him carefully. ‘No more than a second after they come out, a man follows them.’ Backstrom saw him on the screen. ‘He goes in the same direction, following them.’

‘It could be anyone.’ There was definitely something neither of them wanted to say. ‘Spill!’

‘We think it could be Patrick Monk.’

His blood ran cold. Patrick Monk, who’d murdered two young men at his home the previous year, escaping conviction because the officer who was first on the scene hadn’t followed procedure. It was an error that Monk’s lawyer had used to have the case thrown out of court. Backstrom was on his feet so quickly his chair went skidding back and hit the wall. 

‘Get his address. Get everyone out there; SWAT, EMTs, everyone.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

They weren’t arguing, which meant they were as concerned as he was that Valentine was at best in the clutches of a killer, at worst already dead. 

Within three quarters of an hour, Monk’s suburban home, just a mile outside the city and down river of where the body had been found, was surrounded by armed officers. Backstrom’s team were in bullet proof jackets, leading the raid.

‘If it’s not Monk in the CCTV,’ he warned Niedermayer, ‘and Valentine’s back on the barge eating cold Chinese off the perfect body of a male model, you’re fired.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Backstrom nodded. ’Let’s go.’

They issued two requests for Monk to leave the house through loud hailers, which had the effect of emptying every house on the left and right of them, but there was no sign of Monk. On Backstrom’s order, an armed search team broke down the door and started to clear the rooms one by one. Backstrom and his team followed on behind them. 

It was clear when they found someone upstairs, Monk, by the way sounds of the shouting and the single warning gunshot. Someone called for Backstrom but he ignored it, sent Almond up and carried on through the house until he was standing in the back yard, staring at a ramshackle shed. ‘Moto!’ 

It took one smash of the ex-wrestler’s shoulders for the wooden door to splinter and the brand new padlock to fly off on to the flagstones. Backstrom peered into the dusty darkness and the relief almost made him cry.

Valentine was on the floor in the far corner, knees pulled up to his chest, blindfolded, ball gag stuffed into his mouth, wrists and ankles cuffed, the two sets of manacles locked together.

Backstrom was over with him in a moment, reaching for the blindfold first, vaguely hearing Moto outside, bellowing for EMTs. Valentine flinched when Backstrom’s fingers touched the side of his face and squeaked in terror around the ball holding his mouth open. When the blindfold was removed, he blinked red-rimmed eyes and tried to shuffle away until he actually focused on Backstrom and tears blossomed. When the ball gag finally fell away, he swallowed convulsively, tipped his head back and screamed until his voice gave out.

Backstrom put his gun on the ground, wrapped his arms around his brother and gathered him close, holding on tight, Valentine burying his face into Backstrom’s neck as if he was trying to burrow his way inside him.

‘You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re okay.’

‘Don’t-‘ At first Everett thought he’d imagined the word. ‘Don’t let go of me.’

‘I won’t.’ He felt a little like sobbing himself. ‘I won’t let go.’

Niedermayer stepped inside the shed, announcing himself quietly, ‘It’s just me, Val,’ before coming over to kneel in front of them. He carefully used a pair of slim-nosed bolt-cutters to cut through first the ring connecting the two sets of cuffs, then the cuffs themselves, easing the tool between the metal and Valentine’s lacerated skin, freeing his bleeding wrists and ankles. As soon as the first set dropped, Val’s fingers tangled in the front of Backstrom’s shirt, wiping blood on the light blue cotton. He was shaking hard enough to come apart.

‘I want to get you out of here,’ Backtrom told him when he thought he was calm enough to hear him, and Valentine nodded, sharp movements of his head. ‘Can you walk?’

He sniffed, coughed, and lifted his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ Backstrom doubted it too. 

‘Sir?’ Backstrom glanced at Niedermayer, ‘If I may?’

He tilted his head to consult the terrified man still clinging to him like a lifeline. ‘Val, can Niedermayer carry you, in his strong manly arms?’ He hoped the description would make it an acceptable proposition. 

‘Yeah. I just want out of here.’

Niedermayer shifted to his other side and put one arm under Val’s knees, the other under his arms. Val helped by releasing Backstrom and putting trembling arms around Niedermayer’s neck, and he straightened, rising to his feet, lifting Val like he weighed nothing,

EMTs were waiting for them in the yard, but Backstrom knew from experience that Valentine wouldn’t want to be handed off to them. Instead, Niedermayer carried him along the path that ran next to the house out to the waiting ambulance. Val insisted on him stopping at the back of it and letting his feet drop to the step. His legs, however, refused to hold his weight and if Niedermayer hadn’t caught him, he would have collapsed. 

An EMT helped him up to sit on the edge of the gurney inside the ambulance, and Valentine reached out, wriggling his fingers until Backstrom joined him, putting one around around him, while the EMT cleaned and examined his wounds.

‘You’ll need a couple of stitches in your wrists,’ he advised. ‘but your ankles should be okay. I’ll field dress them here and they’ll do the stitches at the hospital. Are you hurt anywhere else?’ 

Valentine shook his head. The corners of his mouth were rubbed raw from the gag, redder against the pallor of his face. Backstrom rubbed his back. 

‘Val?’

‘He hadn’t… started with me yet.’

The EMT didn’t push, gave Valentine a shot of something good and started to dress his wounds.

There was activity at the front of the house, and Almond led a handcuffed Patrick Monk out and across to a patrol car.

‘He… he killed Steven,’ Val told them, ‘strangled him in front of me then… smashed his face with a baseball bat.’ Tears streamed over his face. ‘I thought he was gonna do the same to me.’ Backstrom kissed the side of his head, lingering there. ‘When he dumped me in the shed I hoped… I knew you’d be looking for me.’

Almond walked over, Gravely on his heels. ‘Sir, we’ll take Monk back to the station and charge him.’ 

‘Do that. And don’t worry if you accidentally shoot him on the way.’

Gravely asked, ‘Are you going to the hospital?’

‘Yes. Niedermayer, go with them.’ He could tell the detective wanted to argue with him, but in the end he did as he was told. 

‘I’ll call in later.’ The doors of the ambulance were closed, and Valentine tilted sideways into him, resting his head on Backstrom’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He remained there for the trip to the hospital, safe but with a few more nightmares to add to his collection.

~

Sitting on the edge of Valentine’s bed, Backstrom held his hand and stroked his hair, easing him into sleep. They’d wanted to keep him at the hospital overnight, but Val had refused to stay and trying to persuade him would have only made things worse.

‘I’m thinking of having you fitted with a tracker,’ he joked softly, and Val smiled. The meds they’d given him were making him dopey. Now he was home, he’d stopped fighting them. ‘You’re a psycho magnet.’

‘I’m just a magnet,’ Val murmured, eyes closing. Backstrom chuckled but didn’t respond, let the drugs take him. 

Once he was asleep, Everett kissed his forehead and left the door to his room open so he could hear if he woke, and Val would hear him moving around the boat if he woke. He tip-toed up the stairs and tacked a note to the outside of the door, instructing his team to text him if they turned up, rather than banging and shouting.

He cleared away the Chinese takeaway he’d abandoned the night before, washed a couple of dishes, then sat and watched television with the sound turned down. He received a text from Niedermayer and went up to let him in.

‘How’s Valentine?’ he asked before they reached the base of the steps.

‘Sleeping. He’ll be okay. He’s tough, don’t underestimate him.’

He lifted two ginger beers from the fridge and handed one to Niedermayer. They sat at the table, Backstrom leaning back in the chair Valentine usually relaxed in. 

‘Maybe. But even he must have his limits.’

‘He has very well developed coping mechanisms.’

By the way Niedermayer was regarding him, Backstom knew what was coming. ‘Are you one of those coping mechanisms?’

The lack of ‘sir’ at the end told him this conversation wasn’t between lieutenant and detective, but two sort of friends. Still, finding the right words wasn’t easy. 

‘I’m one of his, he’s one of mine.’ They drank in silence for a couple of minutes. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I just wanted to check on Valentine.’

‘Why? A year ago you flinched every time he came near you. What’s changed?’

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

‘I don’t know-‘

‘You used to pretend to barely tolerate him. I don’t deny you’ve always protected him and I know you’ve always cared for him, but recently it’s more, it’s deeper, impossible to pretend it isn’t. You two are much, much closer.’

‘We found out -‘

‘You’re brothers, half-brothers, I know. But it’s more than that. I would have said you were more like brothers before you found out.’

‘So… are you interested in him now? You’ve tried with Paquet and now you want to see if Valentine is a better fit for you?’

‘No. Well, I might have done.’ Niedermayer gazed at him, smiling. ‘Had you not beaten me to it.’

It took a moment to realise what he’d said. ‘I didn’t-‘

‘There really isn’t any point in denying it. And don’t worry, I’m not going to spread it around. I may have been surprised when I worked it out, but I know why you’re keeping it quiet and I just wanted you to know… he’s been your friend and your confidant for eight years. He’s been your half-brother for six months. You’re not harming anyone. In fact, he’s been surprisingly good for you and you’ve had a positive influence on him. You’re healthier. He’s trying to go legit.'

Backstrom sighed. 'It's not like we're exclusive or anything. Valentine doesn't do relationships. It's just... he looks at me and sees safety.'

'Love doesn't always keep to the strict rules we try to place on it as a society. You love him and he loves you. He's very sexual. It makes sense that the intimacy between you, living in such close proximity on this barge, boiled over into something more.'

'If he'd turned out to be my kid...'

'That would have changed your feelings for him entirely. And his for you. Neither of you would have done anything like this had that been the case. What you have may be unorthodox, technically illegal and tenuously immoral, but he is obviously good for you and you for him.’

Backstrom reached for his drink. 'Were you really considering finally giving in to him?'

Niedermayer smiled. 'He's very... Interesting. When he was all over me I pushed him away, then he stopped coming on to me, presumably when things changed between the two of you. They always say you want what you can't have.'

'Like I said, We're not exclusive.'

'Maybe not. But you'll kill me if I lay a finger on him, right?'

'You can rely on it.'

He laughed. 'You may not be exclusive as long as he's only getting off with nameless strangers in the back rooms of clubs, but I’ll bet he hasn't brought anyone home in a while.' Backstrom tried to remember the last time. It was months ago. ‘And I'd bet it would be a different matter if he was parading around with someone you know and work with.’

‘He’s never brought home anyone I know, let alone work with.’

‘Of course he hasn’t. I think you may be underestimating his feelings for you. He knows all this as well as I do or else he wouldn't have stopped coming on to me. He must be aware by now that he could have me if he pushed a little harder, but he hasn't and he won’t.’

‘You think that’s because he’s in love with me?’ He was being sarcastic, but Niedermayer nodded. 

‘Yes.’

‘Valentine doesn’t fall in love like that.’

‘Everyone does at one time or another.’

‘Maybe, with a cherub or a male model. I’m aware of how other gay men, and a lot of women, look at him. He has a certain charm, I’ll admit, and he could - has - used that to get into the underwear of almost anyone he sets his sights on.’

‘So he set his sights on you. Did he seduce you?’

‘I’m not telling you that!’

His raised voice brought a grunt from Valentine’s room and they both looked up, Backstrom waiting to see if the grunt would turn into a scream. Instead, there was movement and a second or two later, Valentine padded out of his room wearing what Backstrom had put him to bed in - his rose T-shirt and a tight fitting pair of boxers.

He still looked doped up, only half-awake apparently, because when Backstrom pushed his chair back, ready to get up if he was needed, Valentine dropped to sit in his lap. He couldn’t push him away. Val’s head would be full of nightmares, his defences at a low ebb, he was warm and Backstrom wished Niedermayer wasn’t there.

Luckily, Niedermayer got that. He stood, and Valentine seemed to only just notice him.

‘Hey.’ He glanced at Backstrom, guilt flashing across his face. ‘Sorry… I thought… thought you were a chair.’ He moved to get up and Backstrom wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him there.

‘You make a surprisingly cute couple,’ Niedermayer told them truthfully, and Valentine blinked a couple of times, trying to understand. ‘I’ll see myself out and I’ll see you in the morning.’ He hesitated, before leaning down and kissing Valentine’s forehead. Then he left without another word.

Backstrom wrapped both arms around his brother, hands finding their way up under his t shirt to warm, soft skin. 

Valentine asked, ’What was that?’ and Backstrom shrugged.

‘Search me. He’s crazy.’

‘You told him.’ 

With a sigh, he looked up expecting to see accusation and instead saw surprise and even a hint of joy. ‘He guessed, I just didn’t deny it. I should tell you, I think if you wanted him you could have him.’

Valentine lay his cheek on top of Backstrom’s head. ‘You’d kill him if you caught us together.’

‘I wouldn’t kill him. He might end up back in traffic….’

‘Then why tell me?’

‘Don’t make me look at that decision too hard.’ 

Valentine chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m no longer interested.’

‘Liar.’

‘Okay. I might be a little bit interested. But I’m not going to do anything about it, so his career is safe.’

Relieved, despite not wanting to be, Backstrom stroked Val’s back, sliding one hand down along his thigh. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You know, it’s okay not to be okay, once in a while.’

Valentine didn’t respond to that. He got to his feet and took one of Backstrom’s hands in his own. His eyes caught on the bandages around Val’s wrist and he could only thank God that the cuff burns to his wrists and ankles were his only physical injuries, recalling the state of the body they’d pulled from the river. 

‘Come to bed?’

Backstrom didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing those words from Val, no matter what the circumstances.

~

When someone banged on the door mid-morning, Backstrom presumed it was Niedermayer again. He plodded up the metal steps mostly dressed and was relieved he’d bothered to pull on some pants when he saw Amy standing out in the rain.

He rolled his eyes as he stood back to let her in. ‘You know, when you said you were going to stay out of my life, and begged me to stay out of yours, I presumed that meant you’d stop showing up on my doorstep.’ He was a little surprised to hear the underlying frustration in his own voice, but if she was at all offended, she didn’t show it.

He followed her down the stairs and stepped around her, heading for the kitchen and the kettle.

‘Drink?’

‘No, I’m fine, thank you. How’s Valentine? I heard about Patrick Monk.’

‘He’s okay. Sleeping off the drugs they gave him at the hospital.’

‘I’m surprised they didn’t keep him in.’

‘He didn’t want to stay. He isn’t a fan of hospitals.’ He found the instant coffee and spooned a pile of it into a mug. ‘I’d offer you a towel but we only have the one….’

She shook her head. ’I’m fine.’

‘You didn’t just come here to ask about Valentine. You don’t even know him.’

‘He’s your brother-‘

‘Half-brother.’

‘I’d like to get to know him.’ 

The kettle boiled and Backstrom splashed the water into his mug. ‘Why, Amy? You said you didn’t want anything to do with me, why do you want to know him?’

‘I didn’t say I wanted nothing to do with you, I said I didn’t want to give our prior relationship another chance. But if we could be friends…?’

Backstrom nodded slowly. ‘Yes. We can.’

A grin burst onto her face. ’You are seeing someone!’

‘Why is that any of your business?’

‘Because you’re happy! Believe me, Everett, all I’ve ever wanted for you is happiness.’

‘If that was true, you wouldn’t have dumped me and broken my heart.’

‘You weren’t good for me. I wasn’t good for you. But obviously you’ve found someone who is. The drinking, your weight loss, you’re even dressing better.’

‘Why, Ms Gazanian, are you coming on to me?’

‘No.’ She laughed, that funny little way she did when she was pleased with something, and he realised she wasn’t being completely honest. First Niedermayer with Valentine, and now Amy with him. If he pushed a little harder, maybe she would come back to him. He glanced over to the door of Val’s room, and for the first time in a decade, he didn’t want her back. He was actually glad when his cell phone started to dance around the kitchen table announcing that work was trying to reach him.

He answered it. Niedermayer apologised for disturbing him, the underlying meaning clear, and he assured the detective he was already up and dressed. ‘Patrick Monk isn’t being very talkative. I understand if you want to stay with Valentine today, but Gravely was hoping you could come in and take a crack at him. Her words, not mine.’

‘Sure. I’ll bring Val with me if he doesn’t want to be alone. Give us an hour.’ He ended the call and took a mouthful of coffee before dumping the mug in the sink. ‘Sorry, I have to go in.’ 

Amy nodded. ‘I’ll hang on, drive you in.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I doubt Valentine’s up for driving.’

She had a point. ‘Make yourself at home.’

He opened the door of Val’s room quietly and closed it behind him, perching on the edge of the bed. ‘Hey.’ Resting a hand gently on one shoulder, not shaking, he waited for his brother to wake up. Sleepy eyes opened and lifted to meet his. 

‘Sorry. They want me to go into work. Monk’s clammed up. Do you want to stay here or do you want to come with? If you’d rather stay, I can send Niedermayer to keep you company….’

‘Stop.’ Valentine reached for him and met him half way in a sloppy morning kiss. ‘I’ll come. Do I have time for a shower? I want to wash that bastard off me.’

‘Of course.’ He’d been too exhausted and doped up last night. ‘I’d join you, but Amy’s here.’

‘Amy? Why?’

‘She’s fishing again, wants to know who’s having such a positive impact on her slob of an ex-fiance.’

‘Did you tell her?’

‘No. Niedermayer worked it out. She can too.’

Backstrom got an arm under Valentine’s shoulders and helped him sit up. ‘Lucky she’s here, I don’t think I should be driving.’

‘I’m not even sure you should be up.’

‘I don’t want to be alone today.’

He felt like an asshole. ‘I can stay, they can break Monk-‘

‘No. I can rest on your couch. I want you to put Monk in prison for life. I’ll help anyway I can. Just let me get him off my skin.’

Backstrom watched him hobble across the barge, with barely a wave to Amy making herself coffee. Once the door to the shower room was closed, she commented,

‘Are you sure he should be up and about?’

‘No. But he doesn’t want to stay here alone.’

‘I could stay….’

‘He wants to be near me.’ That was the truth. ‘He’ll get over it quickly enough. Guy’s got enough nightmares in his head to last him several lifetimes.’

‘You really care for him.’ She sounded a little bit in awe. ‘I mean, I know he’s your brother, and that makes him the only member of your family you actually like….’

He couldn’t even begin to explain the depth of his feelings for Valentine. Niedermayer knew, he didn’t need it explaining, partly because he was more empathic than Amy, partly because he looked at Val and felt something too. Then again, Backstrom didn’t feel the need to explain himself to the woman who’d almost, but not entirely, crushed him on more occasions than he could count.

‘Everett?’ Val called him from the bathroom.

He pushed the door open enough to peer inside. ’Are you okay?’

He was standing in the middle of the room, dripping wet, looking miserable as hell. ’I think I need my dressings changing.’

Backstrom closed the door behind him, grabbed the towel from the rail and rubbed him dry, gently, doing his best to keep his touch functional. Val was chuckling when he straightened again, and he threw the towel at his head. ‘Dry your hair then sit down on the toilet. I’ll change your dressings.’

They had a full first aid kit; Backstrom being a cop, Val being a hustler, they tended to need fixing up often. The hospital had sent Valentine home with ointment for his injuries, and Backstrom applied it with care, checking the stitches under the butterfly plasters, wrapping fresh bandages around his wrists and ankles, taping them into place. It took a while, and by the time they’d finished Amy was sitting in Backstrom’s chair watching the morning news.

‘Nice television,’ she complimented as they passed through.

‘Present from Valentine.’ 

Backstrom hung back, thinking Val was probably able to dress himself. And he was right. Ten minutes later he came out wearing a big grey jumper, black jeans and a pair of wide boots that weren’t going to rub on the wounds around his ankles. He’d brushed his hair through with his fingers and applied his usual black kohl and mascara; the mask he presented to the world. He was carrying his long wool coat and his blue scarf hung around his neck. He looked like he was in pain but triumphant. 

‘Have you got anything you can take?’ Val held out his other hand and Backstrom saw the two small orange pills.

‘They’re going to knock me right out, so I was going to wait until I was safely crashed on your couch.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ He turned to Amy. ‘I think we’re ready to go.’

~

It was a very long day but a successful one. After five hours in interrogation, Monk confessed to the murders of three men and the abduction of four. 

Val hadn’t been kidding about the pills. He slept the whole day, curled up on the couch in the office, under the blanket Backstrom thought must smell like him on his worst days. 

Not wanting to wake him again, he stayed late, shared a Chinese takeaway with Paquet and Niedermayer after the others had gone home, then sent them packing too. It was after nine, and he was sitting out on the fire escape, reading some old cold case files that homicide had sent over, when Val poked his head out of the window.

‘Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty.’ 

He looked up at the dark sky in confusion. ’What time is it?’

‘2017.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘Just gone nine.’ 

‘Huh.’

‘You need to be careful with those pills, they could put down a bear.’

‘I feel better.’

‘Good. Ready to go home?’

Backstrom called a cab, which dropped them at the port just a minute’s walk from the barge. Once inside, they pottered around one another the way they had for years. Backstrom was weighing up the pros and cons of sleeping in his own bed right up to the moment Valentine came out of his room, naked except for the dressings, waving around a red and white tube, to ask him if he fancied trying something new.

It was impossible to deny he’d been thinking about it since Valentine had first put the suggestion into his head. He was half way across the room before he thought to check, ‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’ He wished he’d chosen better words when Val drew attention to his semi erection and smiled.

‘Getting there.’

Valentine undressed him, slowly and curiously; touching, licking, nipping, working out what he liked and what he didn’t. Finally stripped, he was pushed back onto the mattress and Val straddled him, leaning forward, sliding their erections together, pushing his tongue into his mouth. 

Of all the things they’d done, this felt painfully intimate. He knew where it was going, the lube was a dead giveaway, and despite earlier reservations, he wanted it. Val had been right. As soon as the idea had been seeded in his brain, all he’d been able to think about, when he’d had time to think, was being inside him, as if every fibre of him needed to experience it. 

Val pulled up, reaching back for the tube he’d left at the end of the bed, and Backstrom watched him squeezed some of the gel into the palm of his hand before wrapping his slick palm around Everett’s dick. The sensation of warmth was almost enough to send him over the edge, and would have ended proceedings very prematurely if Val hadn’t pinched the skin between his balls.

‘At least try to hold on until you’re inside me.’ Those words… they had to be the hottest words he’d ever heard. 

Val squeezed out more gel, reached back and raised up on his knees. Backstrom could only imagine what he was doing, was imagining it, until he shifted forward, grasping Everett’s dick. He felt Val positioning him, just his fingers enough to cause every nerve ending to light up. Then he was slowly sliding down, and the pressure around him made it difficult to breathe. Inch by inch, Valentine’s body took him inside until he was sheathed from tip to balls in the most incredible heat Everett had ever felt.

He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. Instead he scraped his fingertips over Val’s chest and stomach, the urge to touch undeniable. He thought at that moment that the awe and adoration in his eyes must have been difficult to look at, but Val caught his gaze and held it, heat building as he started to move, to rise and fall, fucking himself on Everett’s dick.

‘Touch me,’ he murmured, voice rough. Everett curled his fingers around Val’s cock, falling into the same slow rhythm, adding a tiny twist on the upstroke. 

Eyes wide open, this was something he wanted burned into his memory forever and he knew he wouldn’t last long. The sensation was too exquisite. Nothing had ever been so tight, nothing had ever felt so sexual. Val’s fingers splayed on his chest felt as if they were branding him. His balls were drawn up, tight and aching, almost painful.

Val murmured, ’Come inside me,’ and he came so hard he saw lights dancing in his eyes, orgasm feeling like it was exploding out from every cell in his body. He felt Val’s climax too, body clenching around him, cock pulsing in his hand, semen over his fingers. Carefully, Val lifted off him and collapsed down at his side. Everett folded his arms around him, barely able to move, barely able to recognise his post-coital self.

‘I love you,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone with the intensity I feel for you’.’

Val snuggled closer. ‘That’s just the mind-blowing orgasm talking.’

Everett ran lazy fingers over the curve of Valentine’s hip. ‘Is it always like that?’

‘No. You know it’s not. There’s a difference between sex with some random stranger and sex with someone you love. What you’re feeling now has to be a long way from how you feel after being with a hooker, right? It’s the same for me. Sex with strangers is fun, but that’s all it is.’ He paused. ‘Before you, I’d never had sex with someone I love.’

‘Not even Mark Bradley?’

He felt Val’s smile against his chest. ‘That’s still bugging you, isn’t it? Mark was a means to an end. I can’t help if he thought it was something else. He saved my life, I owed him big time. But all that stuff he said to you, it was one sided, I assure you.’

Everett thought he should have been saddened by that, but he wasn’t surprised. ‘Who will you lie to about me?’

Val lifted his head and cushioned his chin on the back of his hand, nails scraping Everett’s nipple ever so lightly. ‘We're both lying to everyone about each other.'

‘Not everyone.’

‘Thanks for reminding me. Now Niedermayer knows, I’ll never get him into bed.’

‘I told you, he said-‘

‘I know what you told me he said. But then you will have gotten all gooey eyed and now the man who’s into philosophy and poetry thinks you’re in love with me and won’t allow himself to fall for my not inconsiderable charms.’ 

Backstrom realised he was being wound up, but still felt the need to defend himself. ‘I did not go gooey eyed.’

‘Honestly?’ He smiled softly. ‘The way you’re looking at me right now, with more love than I’ve ever been looked at. You don’t think he saw that?’ He settled his head back down, shuffling until he couldn’t get any closer. ‘I’m teasing. I wasn’t going to do anything with him anyway. I wouldn’t mess with your team.’

Backstrom huffed, breath moving Val’s hair. There were words in his brain and he was aiming to say them, but the next thing he was aware of was morning.


End file.
